Hidden Feelings, Hidden Fears
by Annie-chan
Summary: Status: Complete. Squall has never really accepted Laguna as his father, but when suddenly faced with the prospect of losing him to an assassin's bullet, he's forced to realize his hidden feelings, and to confront his hidden fears.
1. Run-in

**Author's Notes:**  Well, here it is, my first _Final Fantasy_ fanfic.  First off, I should explain something.  This is VERY IMPORTANT, so you know where I'm coming from.  I am well aware that Laguna Loire is Squall Leonhart's father (which I think is funny, as the phrase, "like father, like son," does not apply here in the slightest).  However, I have not played very far into the game—I'm still on the second disc—and I try to avoid spoilers unless I actively seek them out.  So, I don't know many details between Laguna and Squall, such as why Squall ended up in the orphanage if one of his parents is still alive, when and why Raine either died or gave Squall up for adoption, who Ellone is, and other things.  Needless to say, this fic is most likely going to have a lot of inconsistencies with the game.  Ignore that.  I'd rather you enjoyed it for the story itself, and not how it measures up to the game, thank you very much.  If you wish to correct me on something(s), I ask you to PLEASE READ THE NOTE at the end of the fic.  If you don't (or even if you do) and you do what it asks you not to do, I will be very upset, and most likely will let you know rather irately.  Believe me, I value being polite, but not if someone does something I specifically warn them against.  I can be very mean if the mood seizes me.

_Final Fantasy VIII_ and the characters herein do not belong to me, but to their respective copyright holders.  Don't think I wouldn't jump at the chance to make them my own if I saw it.

Hidden Feelings, Hidden Fears 

By Annie-chan

Chapter One:  Run-in 

Squall Leonhart still couldn't believe he had been suckered into this.  Trust Selphie Tilmitt and Zell Dincht to set him up like this.  He was willing to bet money they had done this on purpose.

He wished for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour alone—and who knows how many times he had wished it since they got here—that he hadn't come here, that he hadn't been so oblivious to what the feisty martial artist and bouncy Festival Committee chairwoman had gotten him into.  If only he hadn't responded so quickly, if only he had thought it through for at least one second…

He kept his eyes on the pavement in front of him as he walked through the back streets of Esthar.  He hadn't come here on purpose.  Three days ago, Selphie had come to him back at Balamb Garden, saying that she and Zell had accepted a mission together, and they were looking for a third person.  Irvine Kinneas was her first choice, she had said, but he had already scheduled a return to his old Garden in Galbadia to be a guest speaker in a sniper class, so wasn't available the day the mission was supposed to start.  In any case, Selphie wanted to know if Squall wanted to join them.  He hadn't been out on a field mission in quite some time, being SeeD Commander, and she thought he might like to get out some.

Squall had been considering taking at least a small break from his duties as SeeD Commander.  Quistis Trepe had recently told him he looked like he needed to get away from his work for a while, after all, and it didn't sound like a bad idea.  He had agreed to Selphie's offer, and had soon after called Quistis and asked if she could take his place while he was gone, which shouldn't be for too long.  However, being preoccupied with reading a rather incomprehensible letter from a potential client explaining their need for SeeDs to act as guards at a public event that was being planned, he had neglected to ask where they were going and why.

Man, did he ever regret that.

He hadn't discovered they were going to Esthar until he had finally gotten it into his head to ask about the mission as they waited for the Ragnarok to warm up (Selphie had insisted they take it, as she had mentioned they had a ways to go).  He had immediately raised his hackles when Selphie told him they were going to one of the places he least wanted to find himself, but there was no deterring the flip-haired girl.  She had literally grabbed his sleeve and tried to drag him on the airship, though not without a fair amount of protest from Squall.  Selphie couldn't handle him herself, as he was substantially bigger and stronger than her, but Zell suddenly decided to lend a hand, much to Squall's dismay and mortification.  Squall had never liked being picked up completely off the ground, and felt about ready to kill and to die when Zell did just that.  The fact that Zell's compact frame held almost unnerving strength, and could no doubt pick up anyone under six feet tall with little difficulty, did nothing to cushion Squall's embarrassment.

Squall had spent the entire trip there and two-day-long mission—which had been to guard some rich guy's mansion while he held a "priceless family heirloom that drew thieves like mice to cheese" for his daughter for a few days before she came from another city to pick it up after receiving it in the will of her recently deceased aunt—relapsing into his former, ice-cold self, especially when dealing with his "teammates."  Since the Second Sorceress War, Squall had been a more sociable person, though still rather reserved, but he had taken his old attitude back since this rather unwelcome surprise.  Zell and Selphie seemed to ignore this, as if they knew the exact reason for Squall's return to his old self.  This annoyed Squall to no end.

_"Teammates", huh?_ Squall thought testily.  "_Backstabbers" is more like it._

He knew that the chances of running into President Laguna Loire—the man Squall had only reluctantly acknowledged as his father—were quite slim.  After all, it was a big city, and he and Laguna were only two men among hundreds of thousands.  Besides, a president would not just be strolling down the street.  He'd have some kind of accompaniment, whether he wanted it or not.  Squall would most likely see it coming.

Even so, Squall found himself rubbernecking every step of the way.  Almost every man seemed to look like Laguna out of the corner of his eyes.  Every man about his height, every man with dark hair, every man with pale skin, every man with a laughing tone to his voice…it was going to drive him loony, he was sure.

It wasn't that he was scared of his father.  Hyne forbid.  No, it's just that he didn't want to run into him at _all_.

_Yeah, that's it,_ Squall told himself.  _He'd probably embarrass the hell out of me if we did meet.  It's not like he's conscious that other people are around._

He was at the moment walking toward a library near the hotel he, Zell, and Selphie were staying at.  He wanted to be alone, and with Selphie's hyperactive demeanor and Zell's near-constant shadowboxing and whatnot, the hotel room was not a good place.

When he got there, he found himself looking up.  The library was huge.  It was three stories tall, and was at least as long as a quarter of the block.  He had never seen a library so big.  He was willing to bet there were thousands of books in there, some probably generations old.

He walked inside and found his musings correct.  It was very quiet, save for the scuffling of feet and the tapping of keys coming from a corner with several computers in it.  Along the walls and in several rows out on the floor were bookshelves upon bookshelves, each packed with books of all shapes, sizes, and ages.  This was only the ground floor, too.  He could only guess about the other two floors until he got up there.

Squall walked up to the directory near the front door and scanned over it.  His gaze landed on the section labeled "Historical Novels".  He had always found those interesting, as long as they weren't too far-fetched and belonged in the fantasy section more than the historical novels section.  He might as well browse for one he could check out, as he hadn't read one in a while.  He could always return it by mail.

He went over to the staircase at the back of the room and climbed up to the second floor, as the section was noted to be on "2F".

The second floor was basically more books and no computers.  There was bound to be a reading area somewhere, but Squall didn't notice right off.  He'd look for it later if he decided to stay for a time.  He quickly scanned the section labels on the ends of the bookshelves until he came to "Historical Novels".  It was four five-tiered bookcases big, front and back, and historical encyclopedias and dictionaries lined the top of the bookcases.  In one look, Squall saw books that had to be brand-new as well as books that looked like they could have been considered brand-new a century ago.  He found himself wishing Balamb had a library this extensive.  He'd read more, probably, if he had a better selection.  Garden's library wasn't that bad, but much of it was reference and study materials, leaving a relatively small choice in the fiction department.

There were, of course, ladders on each side of each bookshelf for reaching the books on top, as well as for assisting shorter people with getting the higher-up books.  On the ladder on the first side of the first bookshelf Squall came to in the section stood a man, apparently perusing a set of historical encyclopedias on the top of the bookshelf.  Squall paid him no mind and randomly picked out a book, searching for one that may interest him.

After about two minutes of reading the back and flipping through the pages, Squall decided that particular book taking place in an early warrior society looked like hackwork.  He had barely put it back on the shelf when his ears perked up at the sound of the voice of the man on the ladder.

"Whoa…!" the man exclaimed in surprise.  Apparently, the encyclopedia volume he had pulled off the shelf was heavier than anticipated, and had dropped his arm as soon as its weight left the shelf.  The man had managed to keep a hold of it, but had been thrown off-balance, and was doubtlessly going to tumble to the hardwood floor.

Reflexively, Squall jumped the five paces between them in a single stride, and caught the man just as he was about to hit.  The large book he was holding hit the floor with a loud _thud_, followed quickly by the lighter sound of the soles of the man's shoes smacking soundly into the floorboards.  His torso had been saved from being bashed against the floor, though his feet had hit.  He was now being held partially up by Squall as if he had keeled over backwards while standing on the floor with Squall behind him.

"Are you all right…!" Squall asked as he looked down at the man, his voice cutting off completely as he realized who he had caught.  He could only see the man's hair, none of his face, but he knew immediately who it was.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," Laguna Loire said, pulling himself into a standing position.  He turned around to face the young man who had saved him from being sore for a week and froze just as quickly as Squall had.

_DamnitdamnitdamnitdamnitDAMNIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ Squall's mind was screaming as he looked into his father's face.  Running suddenly seemed like a very attractive reaction, but he didn't want to embarrass himself, plus he'd probably be reprimanded for running in the library by the staff.

"Squall," Laguna said, his voice soft.  He was not looking directly at his son, his eyes falling instead on what looked like just beyond his elbow.  "I never expected to find you here.  I didn't even know you were in Esthar."

"Just finished a mission," Squall said, almost stiffly.

Laguna seemed to either ignore or miss the slightly forced tone in Squall's voice.  "So," he said, just as quietly, "you like historical novels?  If you're having trouble finding one, you should read this one."  He turned to the shelf, scanned the spines for half a second, pulled out a medium-sized book, and handed it to Squall.  "It's about several fictional people involved in the escalation of the Northern War five centuries ago.  It's got a very detailed story, and it seems pretty realistic, according to my limited knowledge of the era."

Squall took the book from his father, glancing up into Laguna's eyes for a fraction of a second.  He turned his attention to the novel in his hand.  It was titled _Once Upon a September Evening_.  Apparently, an important part of the novel took place on an evening in September, if the title told anything about the story.  He scanned the back and flipped through the pages.  Yes, it looked like it might be good to read.  He looked back up to Laguna, who had picked up the encyclopedia off the floor, and was watching his son's reaction to the book.  "Thanks," Squall said.

"No problem," Laguna replied.  "I liked the book a lot, so I thought you might like it, too."

"Mm," Squall muttered.

Laguna turned away from Squall, though was still looking over his shoulder at him.  "Come on over here.  There's a nice little reading nook next to the north wall."

Squall hesitated.  He would really rather exit the library than sit in a reading nook with his father.  But, something stopped him from his desired retreat.  He didn't know if it was the faint pleading look in his father's eyes or what, but he found himself nodding and following Laguna to the north wall.

"Where are Seagill and Zabac?" Squall asked.  "Aren't they with you?"

"Nah," Laguna shook his head.  "Kiros and Ward are taking a rest at home.  They've been stressed out lately because of some consecutive bad days."

"Then, what are you doing here?" Squall asked.  "Don't you have your presidential duties?  And, doesn't the president always have _some_ kind of escort?  I mean, in case someone wants to attack you for one reason or another."

"Nope," Laguna almost grinned.  "Well, usually, I do.  Policy and all.  But, every once in a while, like today, I manage to sneak out to be by myself.  Not sneak in the normal sense, but just maneuver my way around things so I don't have some secret service guys following me everywhere."

"That can be dangerous," Squall warned, then wondered why he was warning Laguna about this.  The President of Esthar probably got that told to him every time he went out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know," Laguna said, waving his hand absently.  "But, I like to be away from all that sometimes.  Besides, what's life without a little risk, huh?"

Squall shrugged minutely.  Laguna was right.  He wouldn't like people tailing him everywhere just to keep him "safe".  Besides, if a sniper wanted to shoot Laguna from a rooftop or something, Squall doubted having guards walking along behind him would make any difference.

They conversed a while, mostly Laguna speaking and Squall listening.  It had been full daylight when Squall entered the library, but now the sun was just starting to touch the horizon.

"Come back with me," Laguna suddenly said, breaking a short silence that had fallen between them.

"Excuse me?!" Squall exclaimed, though it came out sounding more shocked than he meant it to.

"Come back with me," Laguna repeated, looking straight into Squall's startled gray eyes.  "I'd…I'd like you to stay with me for a few days."

"I…" Squall managed, fumbling for the right words.  He wasn't happy with the fact that Laguna was his father, but he didn't want to intentionally hurt Laguna's feelings.  Squall could be cold, but he wasn't cruel.  "I…I can't.  I have my SeeD duties."

Hurt flashed through soft blue eyes, but was quickly replaced with tenacity.  "Oh, don't be so responsible.  You look like you need a rest.  I'll bet you haven't taken a real break in months.  What did you do for your birthday last month, huh?  Nothing special, I suppose.  You should stay here for a few days to refresh your system."

Squall floundered for a moment.  His father was right.  He _hadn't_ taken a real break in months.  Still, he turned his eyes away and spoke softly.  "A SeeD Commander should put his duties above his own wants."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laguna's shoulders drop and his head bow forward slightly.  "Squall…my son…I want you to stay with me for a few days, that's all.  Just…just do this because I'd like you to…please…?  Just give me this one request?  I…I want you near me for a while, at least.  I need to know you don't hate me."

Squall turned back to his father, and looked into his face again.  "And?  What if I do hate you?  I certainly wouldn't stay with you if I did."  He kept his voice perfectly flat.

Laguna blinked rapidly a few times, his eyes stinging.  "There's nothing I can do, then," he almost whispered, his voice sounding painfully tight.  He looked straight into Squall's eyes.  "But, you wouldn't have spent the last hour here with me if you hated me, though, am I right?"

Squall mentally hit his fist on the coffee table in front of him.  Damn it.  Laguna had called his bluff.  Not that it was very hard, but still…

Laguna scratched the back of his neck.  "We could go to that new weapons museum downtown tomorrow.  They have a big section dedicated to the history and development of gunblades.  I know how you love those things."

Squall's fancy was suddenly piqued.  Yes, he did love the gunblade.  It was the sole reason he picked it as his weapon of choice.  He didn't pick it for ease of handling, that's for sure.  It took him years just to find his own style.

"Well…" Squall began.  _Wait a second!_ the voice in the back of his head suddenly screamed.  "…I guess…"  _No, stop!_  "…it wouldn't hurt…"  _Hold it!_  "…to stay for a few days."  _YOU IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Laguna's head popped up.  "Really?!  Oh, thank you, Squall!  You don't know what this means to me!"

"…………" Squall replied.  He couldn't ignore the voice in the back of his head berating him for being such a pushover just because his father mentioned an exhibit on gunblades.  _Oh, shut up_, he ordered it.  _It's only for a few days.  It's not as if I'll manage to screw myself over somehow._

Keep your fingers crossed, the voice said, clearly not happy that cold-and-distant Squall was suddenly accepting his idiot father's invitation to stay a few days. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Zell got up from sitting on his bed in the hotel room, put the magazine he was reading down, and went to the door to answer a polite but firm knock.  A messenger was on the other side, who delivered a small note to him, tipped his hat, and left.

The note said "Zell and Selphie" on the outside in Squall's handwriting.  He unfolded the small piece of paper and read an equally small note.

"Zell and Selphie,

"I met up with my father, and am staying a few days.  Take the Ragnarok back to Garden tomorrow as we originally planned.  Tell Quistis I'll be a few days longer.  I'll take public transportation back.

"Squall"

"Hey, Selphie!" Zell called to his diminutive partner, who was drying her hair in the bathroom after washing it in the sink.  "Your plan worked!"

"What?!  Really?!?!" an ecstatic voice practically shouted a split second before she came bursting through the bathroom door, a towel still draped over her tousled and damp hair.  She snatched the note from him, read it, and squealed.  "It worked! It worked!  It was a one-in-a-million shot, but it worked!  Yes, yes, _yes_!"

She threw her arms around Zell, squeezing him so tightly he felt like his ribs would break.  When she let him go, he staggered, grabbing hold of the bedpost to keep his balance, gasping for breath.  For such a small girl, she had a death-grip to rival most professional wrestlers, he was sure.

To be continued… 

**Author's Notes:**  Well, there's chapter one.  This may be a two-parter or three-parter…I haven't decided.  Now, here's the note I mentioned at the beginning:  if you wish to correct me on something I got wrong due to my limited knowledge of this subject, please don't.  If you do, you're bound to give me some kind of spoiler, and I don't like spoilers unless I'm actively seeking them out.  Getting them in an email or a fic review is not actively seeking them out.  If you give me a spoiler, expect a rather pissed-off email right back.  So, now that I've said that, I should say something else:  please tell me how you like this!  I'll even accept criticism as long as it's not mean (in other words, make it constructive, not destructive)!  Let me know either in a review or at mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!


	2. Nightmares

**Author's Notes:**  See chapter one for disclaimer and explanation.

Hidden Feelings, Hidden Fears By Annie-chan Chapter Two:  Nightmares 

Laguna looked all around him.  Darkness.

_Where am I?_ he wondered.  _Am I dreaming…?_

It seemed likely.  All around him was just solid black.  He couldn't even see the floor under his feet, though it clacked under his heels as he walked.  He could see himself perfectly clear if he looked down, so it was as if the darkness was caused not from an absence of light, but an absence of anything around him.  He and the invisible floor seemed to be the only things around.  The only sounds to reach his ears were his own breathing and his own footsteps.

No, that's not right.  He could hear something else, thin and almost high-pitched, as if from a great distance.  It sounded like a child crying.  The wails were so pitiful that his heart clenched, and he looked all around him for the ailing child.

"Where are you?" he called out, and the cries suddenly got louder.  He turned around and saw a little boy crouched on the ground, crying into his grubby hands.  He looked like he was well taken care of, save for the dirt that stained his skin and his clothes, which suggested a rowdy day spent outside.

"Little boy," Laguna said, stepping closer to the child, "why are you crying?  Where are your parents?"  He was alarmed at the nature of the boy's cries.  They seemed to come from deeper in the spirit than any fear or physical pain.  He knelt down and placed a hand on the boys shaking shoulder, prompting the boy to look up at him.  The steel gray that met his sky blue demanded instant recognition.

"Squall…" Laguna murmured in surprise, his eyes wide at the discovery.  This boy…this scared, dirty, crying little boy was his son!  "Why are you crying?  Please, tell me Squall…!"

"He's lost," a voice said behind him.  It was barely above a whisper, but it was perfectly clear even above the boy Squall's cries.  "He wants his mother and father.  But, his mother is dead, and you were never there for him…you were never there for _me_."

They boy Squall turned back away from his father as Laguna stood up and turned around.  He knew that voice well, though had only heard it a handful of times.

"You left us," Squall, now as he was at present, said, his arms crossed defensively, his eyes narrowed.  "Me…my mother…Ellone…you left _all of us_."  He was speaking through his teeth, his voice a deadly whisper.  His eyes were cold and unforgiving.

"N-no," Laguna managed to answer, unnerved by the unmasked contempt in his son's eyes.  "No, Squall…that's—"

"You never wanted us," Squall cut him off, almost spitting the words at his father.

"That's not—" Laguna tried again.

"Not what?" Squall interrupted, sounding disgusted.  "Not true?  Is that so?  Then why did you leave us?"  His last sentence was dripping with something that sounded frighteningly close to hatred.

"I…I-I…" Laguna found himself stammering.  The boy on the floor continued to wail piteously.

"You never wanted me!" Squall bit out, his face dissolving into a mask of internal pain.  "You left my mother because of me, didn't you?!"

"No!" Laguna almost shouted, desperate to explain himself.  "I meant to come back!"

"Liar!" Squall cried.  "Liar!  Liar!  You never wanted a child!  You left me to an orphanage because you didn't care enough about either of us to come back!  You _never_ meant to come back!"  Hard tears were streaming from his eyes, and his words were punctuated with the heartbroken sobbing of a discarded child.  "Do you know how hard it was?!" he demanded through his tears, his voice softer though no less pained.  "Do you know how hard it was, growing up with no parents?!  Wondering every night if your parents were still alive, if you were there only because they didn't want you?!  Nobody wanted me!  Nobody wanted to adopt a distant and sullen child like me!  The only reason I left was to attend Garden!  And, even there, I was isolated!  I had become so accustomed to shutting myself off that I couldn't let anyone close to me, even if I wanted to!"  He lifted his gloved hands up to his face and vainly tried to wipe away the tears.  "And, when I found you alive, my deepest fear was confirmed!  My father didn't want me!  He left my mother to die and me to live a lonely and empty childhood!"  He slowly sank to his knees, surrendering to his tears, adding to the cries of the boy crouching on the floor.

Laguna felt drawn to his son.  Without thinking, he stepped closer to him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  "Squall…I—"

"_Don't touch me!_" Squall screamed, jerking away.  "_I hate you!  You're not my father!  YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER!!!!!!!!!_"

Laguna jerked out of the nightmare with a sharp cry.  He lay there for a long minute, shivering, a cold sweat gleaming in the starlight filtering through the half-closed curtains over the window.

"Ohhhh…" he moaned finally, reaching up and placing his hand over his eyes.  A terrible fear was lancing through him, making it practically impossible to quell his shaking.  He was deathly afraid that this was what his son thought of him, that Squall hated him for never being there for him growing up.  The dream had been so real…

About ten minutes later, the shaking finally stopped and his thoughts finally cleared, he got up out of bed and glanced at the clock.  Almost two-thirty in the morning.  He absently tied a bathrobe on and slipped out the door into the hall.  He half-ran on the pads of his feet down the hallway, barely making any noise, until he came to the door of the room Squall was staying in.  A night guard or two looked after him, puzzled as to why the president was running down the hall in the wee hours of the morning.

He stood in front of the door for several minutes, staring at the painted wood, as if trying to see through it into the room beyond.  Finally, he reached out and slowly turned the knob, pushing the door open silently.  He thanked Hyne a thousand times over for well-oiled hinges.

Closing the door, he looked across the dimly-lit room to the bed, the figure of his sleeping son lying on his back nestled between the sheets.  His arms were up over his head on the pillow, and the covers looked like they had been half kicked off.  He apparently wasn't a peaceful sleeper.  Every few breaths, Squall sighed softly in his sleep, his head turning slightly this way or that, suggesting he was also dreaming.  Suddenly, he rolled over on his side, facing Laguna, and he murmured something under his breath.  "Nnnnnnnhh…Selphie…watch those nunchaku…"  Apparently, Squall had inherited the habit of muttering in his sleep from his father.

Laguna cautiously padded over to the bed and gingerly sat down on the edge.  Hesitantly, he reached out and clasped one of Squall's hands lightly, gently squeezing.  It prompted another utterance.

"Mmnnn…Rinoa, you're breaking my hand…"  Laguna couldn't help but smile softly at that.

He silently watched his son sleep for several minutes, a subdued look on his face.  Squall's pale, young face was peaceful as he slept, with the occasional slight expression corresponding to whatever he was dreaming about.  It was so different from the pained, hateful expression from his recent nightmare that Laguna was sure would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life.  It had scared him so deeply.

Laguna grimaced as his son's words from the nightmare echoed through his mind.  _You never wanted me…you left all of us…I hate you…you're not my father…_

His eyes started stinging sharply, and his sight blurred as hot tears overflowed down his cheeks.  A cry clawed its way out of his throat, and he hurriedly put his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.  Regret deeper than any he had felt before had clamped a cold, hard fist around his heart, and was squeezing mercilessly.  Pain stabbed through his chest as he fought to keep from waking his son.

He remembered…he remembered clear as day the moment he had been informed of Raine's death from an infection that set in soon after she gave birth to their son.  He had stood, stunned, unable to move or make a sound.  The news that his son, whose name he had yet to discover, and Ellone were out of his hands and had been sent to a remote orphanage snapped him out of his trance, allowing for his violent reaction to grab hold.  His knees had turned to water…he had fallen to the floor…he was shaking…freezing…pain…pain in his chest…too much…oh, Hyne above, he couldn't _breathe_…

He had woken up a day and a half later in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines that monitored his heart and breathing, an IV tube sticking out of his arm.  Doctors had told him that he had hyperventilated and had briefly gone into cardiac arrest.  Kiros had later told him that his face had looked like that of a man whose heart had been torn out and crushed.

For nearly a year after he was released from the hospital, his wore almost nothing but the grieving color of black as he mourned the loss of Raine, Ellone, and his infant son.  He had almost completely succumbed to his sorrow, and had Kiros and Ward to thank for seeing him through and helping him slowly pull himself back together.

"I-I'm so…so sorry…m-my son," he gasped, the effort to keep from howling and waking everyone in the building almost physically hurting him.  Tears were dripping off his chin and flowing down his neck.  "I should…should never have left…never have left you…never have left your dear mother…oh, Squall, I'm so sorry…!"  The last word stuck in his throat and turned into a keening wail, and he squeezed his son's hand hard.  He reached up and brushed messy brown bangs away from Squall's eyes, and cautiously leaned down and placed a soft kiss upon his son's forehead.

He lived to regret it.

At the very second he pulled away, two tears fell free from the streams flowing down his face and splashed down onto Squall's cheeks.  Squall suddenly groaned loudly, his body moving in such a way that made it obvious he was waking up.

Laguna panicked and fled, not having the sense of mind to stop the door before it slammed shut.  He bolted down the hall, back into his own bedroom, and curled into a ball on the bed, shaking violently as he continued to weep.

Squall jerked awake, almost sitting up.  He had been awoken by a loud noise, he was sure of it, but he wasn't sure what the noise had been.  He then noticed that two tears that had not come from his own eyes marked his cheeks, and his hand tingled as if it had been recently squeezed.  Puzzled, he sat up and turned toward the door, a question in his eyes though he was looking at no one.

"Father…"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, neither Squall nor Laguna said anything about the night before.  Both seemed to be hoping the other didn't know they knew about it.

They walked toward the weapons museum, which wasn't that far from the Presidential Mansion, in near silence, barely speaking to each other.  This seemed to puzzle the guards.  The Chief of Security had caught wind of Laguna's sneaking out the day before with no escort, and had not been happy with his president.  He had given Laguna a lecture on how important it was to guard his safety at every moment, and had then assigned three guards to accompany Laguna and Squall to the museum.  Laguna had looked like he wanted to protest, but also looked like he had had a bad night, and therefore didn't have the motivation to make his displeasure known.

They paused in front of the museum.  One of the guards, a relatively new kid named Andy Rearick, had accidentally stepped on one of his shoelaces, and bent down with a sigh to retie it.

Laguna didn't know what happened next.  Out of nowhere, all the senses he had fine-tuned during his days as a Galbadian soldier awoke from their dormancy.  His instincts drew his eyes to the rooftop of a five-story building across the street, and he saw the figure of a man crouching behind the metal fence around the perimeter, pointing something long and thin through the chain-link…

He barely had time to register what he was seeing before he blindly lunged to the side, narrowly escaping the bullet that sang through the space his head had occupied not a split second later, smacking into the pavement several feet behind him.  He plowed right into Squall, knocking them both to the ground.

Squall was suddenly crouched protectively over him, Lion Heart drawn from the leather-and-bone sheath that hung on his back, held with the flat of the blade facing the sniper in order to deflect any other bullets.  A loud commotion had exploded in the street, accompanied by the sounds of the three guards' rifles going off in the direction of the sniper, who swiftly disappeared.

Squall grabbed Laguna's sleeve and yanked him up.  "C'mon.  Into the building."  He half-dragged his father through the doors before Laguna could even respond.

The proprietor of the museum, as well as many of the staff and security guards met them, obviously disturbed by the nearby gunshots.  The proprietor said the smartest thing to would be for the president to go toward the back of the building, away from the street, and that the museum's security guards would be on extra alert for anyone suspicious in the building.

Squall, Laguna, and the three presidential guards wove their way through the interconnecting rooms, past exhibits of various types of weapons, until they got to a room devoted to battleaxes at the back of the building.  They were the only people in the room at the moment.  Everyone was still breathing hard from the adrenaline rush the assassination attempt had let loose.

"Thanks, guys," Laguna said to them all.  "Great Hyne, that scared me nearly to death…didn't know if he'd hit someone in the street when he was aiming at me."  He stretched, unconsciously turning away from the other four…

BANGBANGBANG

Laguna jumped and then froze at the sound of three rapid-fire gunshots, followed by groans of pain and three people hitting the floor.  He whirled around and found a pistol aimed right between his eyes by none other than Andy Rearick.  The other two guards, Vince Donovan and Terry McLean, and Squall were on the ground behind Rearick.  Donovan and McLean had both been shot through a kneecap, rendering their legs useless.  It looked like Rearick had narrowly missed Squall's kneecap, but he couldn't stand up any easier than the other two.  Rearick had grabbed Donovan and McLean's rifles and now held them in the hand that didn't have the pistol pointed in Laguna's face, his own rifle slung over his shoulder, hanging by the shoulder strap.

"No!" Squall hollered at Rearick, trying to struggle to his feet.  "You leave him alone, you son-of-a-bitch!"  Rearick turned away from Laguna just long enough to deliver a sharp kick to Squall's midsection, making the president's son gasp in surprise and pain, curling protectively in on himself.

"What do you want, Rearick?" Laguna asked, feeling it was useless, but asking just the same.

"What does it look like?" Rearick sneered.  "You to be dead.  I could just ask you to resign from office, but I don't think it'd be too easy to get you to do that.  It's so much easier to just kill you."

Laguna's eyes narrowed slightly.  "You're from that radical student group at the University of Esthar, right?  The one that seems to think it expressly their job to twist everything I say and do into something that'll make me look bad?"

"If you wanna make us sound like mud-rakers, yes," Rearick replied.  "The public's too enamored with you.  It'll be too easy for you to turn your presidency into a dictatorship.  You'll make this city no better than when Adel was ruling."

"You seriously underestimate my integrity, young man," Laguna almost growled.  "You're too young to have given this any thought.  I'll bet that you and your buddies just want to put yourselves in power.  Am I right?"

"That's what they all say," Rearick snorted.  It was all too obvious that the assassination had been planned for months, and that Rearick had joined the presidential guard as he did ten weeks ago to make sure it succeeded if the gunman on the roof failed.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Laguna saw movement.  His eyes flickered over to Squall for the tiniest moment, and saw that his son had unsheathed his gunblade and was dragging himself over to Rearick.  His eyes were burning, every fiber in his being hell-bent on killing this thrice-damned little bastard.  Rearick saw the almost imperceptible movement in Laguna's eyes, whipped his head around and saw Squall, and…

Excruciating pain exploded in his torso as Rearick fired rapidly four times into him, the bullets punching through his flesh, shattering his bones, ripping into his organs…his entire body collapsed, depositing him unceremoniously on the floor.  Blood suddenly filled his mouth as he coughed, spilling out through his parted lips and teeth.  He would have been writhing in agony if his coughing fit weren't freezing his skeletal muscles up.

As his senses faded, he heard someone screaming bloody murder.  However, it seemed from far away, and he couldn't tell if the scream was out of fear, pain, or fury.

Black.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Squall sat by his father's bedside in the hospital room in the Intensive Care Unit.  His crutches leaned up against the wall near him.  The doctors had tried to keep him from getting up, due to his gunshot wound to the leg, but Squall would have none of it.  His father needed him by his side.

It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the attack in the museum.  After seven hours of delicate surgery, the doctors had managed to locate and remove all four bullets from Laguna's body, and repair the wounds as best they could.  However, curative spells and potions could never fix all the damage in a body so far gone, and the president needed time to heal the rest of the way on his own.  He had yet to wake up, and doctors had no estimate on how long he would stay unconscious like this.  He may still very well die.

Kiros and Ward had been here as long as could be spared, and they both wished they could stay by their friend's side longer, but the citywide commotion caused by the attack needed to be taken care of, and Laguna was obviously not in shape to do it himself.  The collective gasp from the public when it was let out that the young SeeD Commander, who was also hurt, was the president's son also had to be addressed.  Kiros had told everyone up front the whole story about Laguna and Raine, and why Laguna couldn't raise his own son, so any scandals that may arise from this newfound knowledge would just be the work of people just itching to make everyone in the public light look bad.

Squall squeezed his father's hand again, as he had probably hundreds of times since the attack, looking for any sign of life.  He had gone ballistic when he saw his father fall, his light green button-up shirt stained horribly red.  In a surge of enraged strength, he had leapt toward the assassin and sliced his entire body in half from shoulder to hip with one vicious swipe from Lion Heart.  All he could do after that was clutch his father's grievously wounded body to him, crying bitterly, thinking him dead.  Finding out he was still alive as the paramedics prepared a stretcher for him to be transported to the aid car that had rushed to the museum wasn't much better.  He had seen how his father's body was convulsing in unimaginable pain, and almost sickened from imagining what he was going through.  He hadn't slept at all since the attack.

The doorknob turned and the door was pushed inwards.  Squall barely noticed until…

"Squall…?" Rinoa Heartilly said cautiously as she entered, followed by Quistis Trepe, Zell Dincht, Selphie Tilmitt, and Irvine Kinneas.  All were uncommonly quiet and subdued.  They had all come on the Ragnarok as soon as they could possibly get away from their Garden duties.  Quistis had left Xu as temporary SeeD Commander, as she herself was just filling in for Squall.

Squall got up almost zombie-like from the chair and turned toward his companions.  He tried to take a step toward them on his bad leg, which buckled and dropped him to the floor.  Rinoa sprang forward and caught him before he could hit, holding him gently, stroking his hair, whispering reassurances as he wrapped his arms tightly around her and wept brokenly against her shoulder.  She had never seen him so overcome with emotion before, and it frightened her.  Her reassurances were as much to calm herself as they were to calm Squall.

As soon as she saw Laguna, heavily bandaged, an air mask over his nose and mouth, numerous IVs sticking out of his arms, Selphie broke down again.  She had dissolved into tears back at Garden when she had heard her "Sir Laguna" had been shot and possibly killed.  She threw her arms around Irvine, who stood next to her, clutching at his shirt, crying into his chest.  The substantially taller man gently guided her out of the room toward the small waiting room down the hallway.

Quistis and Zell were silent.  Quistis was always one to look calm on the outside even if she was screaming on the inside, and Zell was so shocked both at the news of the attack and Squall's unexpected reaction when they walked into the room, that he found his normally talkative self at a total loss for words.

The only sounds in the room were Squall's heartbroken cries and the steady beeping of the heart and lung monitors hooked up to the prone man on the bed.  After several tense moments, Squall moaned out three simple words that conveyed all the stress and pain he had been though in the past twenty-four hours:  "It's…it's a nightmare…!"

To be continued… 

**Author's Notes:**  Well, it looks like it's gonna be a three-parter.  It took me a while to write this sucker.  I hope you all like it.  Please tell me what you think of it in a review or at mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!


	3. Confessions and Reconciliations

**Author's Notes:**  See chapter one for disclaimer and explanation.

Hidden Feelings, Hidden Fears By Annie-chan Chapter Three:  Confessions and Reconciliations 

"You have to rest, Squall."

Squall raised his head, fixing his tired, bloodshot eyes on Rinoa.  It had been a week since the attack, and nearly four days since he had eaten or slept.  Rinoa had convinced him to rest and eat a little about three days after the attack, but he had refused any more.

"Please, Squall," she whispered, taking his hand between her own.  "You're pale, you're shaking, you're getting more and more unaware of your surroundings…you're killing yourself, Squall!"  She touched his cheek as she finished, and he leaned his head into her hand.

"I can't," he groaned.  "I can't bring myself to eat…I can't bring myself to sleep…I can't leave his side…he needs me…"

"Squall…he wouldn't want you—" Rinoa began.

"_He's dying, Rinoa!_" Squall roared.  "_He's dying, and I never let him know I love him!  I kept pushing him away, all because of my god-damned pride!_"  He tried to jerk away from her, but only succeeded in slipping out of the chair he had been sitting in for days on end, falling clumsily to the floor.  He curled into a ball like a frightened child, crying weakly.  "He's dying…he's dying…"

"Squall, it's all right," Rinoa soothed, knowing it would do little good.  "You don't know that.  He could get better.  The doctors said he's stabled out.  He'll get better real soon, I promise you."

Squall looked up to her, the dark circles under his eyes making them look huge.  "Do you really think so…?" he murmured, hopeful.  He sounded painfully like a lost little boy, searching for anything to cling to in order to keep his sanity.

"You know I'd never lie to you," she smiled softly, and helped him stand.  He was unsteady on his feet, as his body hadn't any adequate nourishment for almost seven days.  She guided him over to the cot on wheels that a nurse had brought in for them.  The idea was that, as one slept, the other could watch Laguna, and that they would switch off.  So far, though, Squall had used it a grand total of one time.  Laguna's primary physician had seen the lack of sleep Squall had been getting, and had left a small bottle of sleeping pills for him to use.  Squall's not sleeping was more inability than refusal.  Rinoa handed him two of the pills and a cup of water.  She expected protest, but Squall swallowed the pills and water like an obedient child.  Apparently, he was at the end of his rope.

"Please don't let him die," he whispered, lying down.

"I won't," she reassured him, placing a quick, gentle kiss on his lips.  "I promise you."  She had barely uttered these words before he relaxed completely, falling into much-needed morphia.

Rinoa quietly walked over to Laguna's bedside and sat down in the chair Squall had just vacated.  She was the only one who had come on the Ragnarok that was still here.  The others couldn't abandon their Garden duties, thought they had all wanted to stay to provide support to the president's obviously devastated son.  Rinoa, not a SeeD, had the freedom to stay by her lover's side.

Laguna had not moved for nearly ten hours.  Every once in a while, he would groan a bit and twitch, as if dreaming.  For nearly half a day, though, he had been as still as death.  The only signs that he was indeed alive were the steady bleeping of the medical machines that were hooked up to him.  As doctors said, his condition had stabilized, but he was still exceedingly weak.  Any shock to his system, however slight, could send him into a downhill spiral that could ultimately end in his death.  He had no need for the air mask anymore, but doctors were keeping close watch on the readout of the machine monitoring his breathing, to make sure he'd get it back immediately if he needed it.  Several IVs were hooked up to his arms, some delivering medicines that helped promote quicker healing, others delivering much-needed nutrients to his ravaged body.  Even with the IVs delivering exactly the amount of nutrients a metabolism like his needed, he looked underfed, almost starved.  Even though he had lost almost no weight, he seemed almost bony, lying motionless as he was.  His eyes had sunken into their sockets, and he looked much older than he was, but at the same time managed to look young and helpless.

Doctors had said it was a miracle he had survived even the ambulance ride to the hospital.  The bullets had all entered in the chest area, two of them tearing into the lungs, one embedding itself in a spinal bone after it passed dangerously close to his heart, and the fourth ricocheting off the spine slightly higher and tore a gash in his left lung, nicking the heart muscle.  The doctors had said that, even though the initial shock of the bullets entering his body hadn't killed him, he could have easily drowned in his own blood as his lungs filled.  He had since fallen into a coma, and had shown no signs of waking up any time soon.

The police assigned to the crime scene had said they planned not to press charges against Squall Leonhart.  He could have been charged as high as second-degree murder, as he had been acting on a burst of emotions, but had meant full well to kill Andy Rearick.  The intent was there, so he couldn't be charged with manslaughter.  However, police concluded that Squall had been acting completely in the defense of a family member in grave danger, and had done what any individual in his situation would at least try to do.

Rinoa took Laguna's slack hand, squeezing it gently.  "He's really worried about you," she whispered, nodding toward Squall.  "He's so afraid you'll die…so afraid he'll never be able to tell you he loves you as much as you love him."  She swallowed, a stab of fear pricking her chest.  "I don't know what he'll do if he does lose you," she managed, tears suddenly choking her voice.  "Don't you die on us, Laguna Loire!"  She said nothing more, crying quietly in the dimly-lighted room.

Nearly an hour and half later, as Rinoa began to doze in the chair, a sudden noise perked her ears up.  The man on the bed, heretofore so quiet it was hard to say he was alive, had drawn in a sharp breath.  The sudden movement in his chest was apparently painful, as that breath was immediately let out in a low groan, his face tight as if in pain.

Rinoa sat up straight, her hand unconsciously squeezing his.  "Laguna…?" she asked cautiously, placing her other hand on his forehead.  "Oh, Hyne, please let him wake up…"

He turned his head in her direction, apparently responding to the touch on his forehead.  Soft, mew-like sounds were trickling from his throat with every exhalation, and his expression was that of a man exerting himself very hard.  He was trying.  He was doing his all to claw his way out of the blackness that had held him prisoner for seven days too long.

A sharp, violent shiver passed through his body, his eyes flying open a split second later as he let out a hoarse cry.  He began trembling to a lesser degree when the shiver waned.  He looked terrified.

"Wherrrrrre…" he managed, the drugs in his system slurring his speech.  His eyes fell on Rinoa when she squeezed his hand again, and he seemed to relax.  "You…I know you…you're Squall's girl…"  His speech seemed to be getting better with every word, but it was halting, the hoarseness making him difficult to understand.

Rinoa nodded.  "Yes…your son and I love each other very much."

"You…you're Julia's daughter…aren't you…?"

Rinoa nodded again.  "Yes."

It seemed a slight smile graced Laguna's face.  "I was…fortunate enough to…know that dear woman…for a little while.  Every night I could…I went to the bar…she played at to…listen to her play.  She played…so beautifully…"  His eyes fixed on her.  "You look…so much like her…"

"Yes, I do," Rinoa replied.  "I hardly remember her, though.  She died when I was only four or five years old.  I really know her only from photographs anymore."

"That's…a shame…" Laguna whispered, closing his eyes.  Genuine sorrow shown on his face.  When he opened his eyes to look at her, a small flash of light drew his gaze downward.  Something was shining on her left hand…his eyes widened when he realized what it was.  He looked up into her eyes.  "You…Squall…engaged…?"

"Yes, we are," she replied with a smile, squeezing his hand again.  "Squall proposed to me just last month."  She giggled.  "You should have seen Selphie when she heard.  She was so excited when I asked her to be one of my bridesmaids.  Of course, she agreed.  Quistis is one of the others."

Laguna's lips quirked up in a weak smile.  "Squall will…make a good husband for you…I'm sure of it."  His drug-hazed eyes flitted around the room.  "Where…is he…?"  The cot Squall was on was behind Rinoa, and Laguna probably couldn't see it from his rather low vantage point.

"He's resting," Rinoa assured him.  "He's been watching over you day and night.  This is only the second time I've convinced him to rest some.  It's been a week since you were attacked, and he's been finding it so hard to eat or sleep.  He loves you very much."

Laguna had almost no outward reaction to this last statement, but what little reaction he did show told Rinoa exactly the sudden joy he felt at those words.  He drew in a shaky breath and closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his pale cheek.  His entire body relaxed as he slipped back into unconsciousness, and Rinoa was left alone again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two days later…

Squall had slept for nearly thirty hours straight.  Rinoa, knowing he needed the rest, had opted to sleep in the chair by the bedside, though it had to have been as uncomfortable as sin.  Now, she was asleep on the cot, while Squall watched over his father.  Squall had woken up about four hours ago, and had been so relieved when Rinoa told him of Laguna's short period awake, he had nearly started crying right then and there.  Rinoa had taken advantage of this and convinced him to eat some, and though he didn't eat as much as she had liked him to, it was better than nothing.

Squall squeezed his father's hand.  He had not woken up again since he had shortly after Squall had taken the sleeping pills, but a new glimmer of hope had taken up residence in Squall's heart.  He finally had the hope he needed, the hope that his father would survive after all.  Still, he was very afraid his father's condition, however stable, would take a turn for the worse.

He was beginning to lapse into the same half-awake, half-asleep trance he had found himself in the majority of his father's hospital stay, when a tiny sound came from the man on the bed.  A groan…an almost imperceptible shiver…

Squall's heart leapt, then began beating so fast he was sure he would faint.  He unconsciously squeezed Laguna's hand hard as his eyes began to sting from tears born of not even he was sure what emotion.

"Nnnnnnnnnngh…" Laguna drawled, sounding doped-out on drugs.  Considering that he had three or four IVs in each arm, he probably was.  Rinoa had said they hadn't seemed to affect his speech to a great extent, though.  Squall wondered what kinds of drugs were being given to him though those IVs.  The names were on the IV bags suspended from a clothesrack-like stand on either side of the bed, but Squall had never been able to understand Doctorese.

Laguna drew in a deep breath through his nose, then let it out in a soft sigh.  He was showing a marked improvement in his breathing, meaning his chance at survival was getting better.  Squall, however, needed to see his father awake to be able to finally believe that.  Even if he woke up again, he wasn't necessarily going to make it.  Squall was deathly afraid that Laguna was going to be one of those cases that seem to be stable, or even getting better, then suddenly drop dead.  Or, that he'd recover in body, but never emerge from the coma he had fallen into.  Although the doctors and Rinoa had done their all to convince him that either thing happening was extremely unlikely, Squall couldn't shake the nagging fear that constantly stood over him.  He had even told himself a few times that his fears were born of nerves and apprehension, but he couldn't get rid of them even then.

His heart jumped to his throat when he looked up and saw Laguna's eyes cracked open, squinted as if looking into bright light, though the lights in the room had been dim for days.

"F…Fa…ther…?" Squall whispered, swallowing, his throat suddenly dry as an unused sponge.  "You…oh, thank Hyne…you're awake!"

Laguna slowly turned his head toward his son, his expression blank, but his eyes dancing.  Though trapped in his own mind for nearly nine days solid, it was apparent that he had wanted to see his son sitting next to him as much as son had wanted to see him open his eyes.  "Squ…all…" he rasped.  "My…son…"  The corners of his lips twitched upward.

"Yes, it's me," Squall replied, unrestrained joy rushing though his system.  "I'm here.  I'd never leave you at a time like this…not when you need me like this."  The ecstatic grin suddenly left his face as his expression melted into sudden pain, and his next sentence was a wail, hot tears making their way down his face.  "I'm sorry!"

Laguna looked confused.  He squeezed Squall's hand, though very weakly.  "What…are you sorry…for…?  It's not…your fault.  You…did all you could."

"Not that!" Squall cried.  "I'm sorry for pushing you away, for not accepting you as I should!  I kept telling myself that you left my mother, that you didn't want me, anything to convince myself you weren't worthy to be called my father!  The fact was I was scared!  I didn't want to let you close to me!  My damned pride would let me open up to you!"  He began calming down, though tears still flowed from his steel-gray eyes.  "I had walled myself off so much for so long that the thought of felling those walls frightened me!  I had already let Quistis, Zell, Selphie, and Irvine in as my first real friends in my life, and I let Rinoa get so close as to allow myself to admit I love her, but even letting them in scared me!  I was constantly terrified for the first few weeks after the return from Time Compression!  Letting her get so close to me felt as if I was letting a _stranger_ look into my innermost thoughts!  I was so accustomed to being alone, even having the one I love get close was frightening…I didn't want to let another in so soon!  A part of me didn't want to do it ever again.  That part of me…it kept convincing me to push you away, kept writing you off as someone below my interest…"  He broke off, wiping tears away.  "I'm…so…sorry…!" he sobbed.

"Squall…" Laguna whispered, his own emotions welling up.  "It's not your fault…you couldn't help it…be happy you've finally surpassed your fear…the most you can do now is…continue to break down…the walls you say you've built…around yourself over the years…"  He squeezed Squall's hand weakly again.  "I love you, Squall."

"I love you, too!" Squall almost wailed.  "I finally realize that!  I should have realized that the moment you told me I was your son!  I…I probably wouldn't have immediately forgiven or forgotten, but I should have been willing to accept you!  I rejected you without even considering why you never came back for me!  I never admitted to myself that you were held back by things beyond your control!"  He bowed his head.  "I was so _stupid_!"

"No, Squall," Laguna tried to assure him.  "It's in our nature to assume…the worst.  I probably would…have done the same thing in…your place."

"I still hold myself responsible," Squall replied, his crying tapering down, though his voice was still trembling.  "I should never have let it go on this long…I should have been willing to start over, to let the past be the past, to not dwell on old mistakes."  He placed his free hand over his father's.  "Please…_please_…forgive me…?"

Laguna smiled, his eyes sparkling.  "You know I can never hold a grudge against anyone, Squall.  Don't you be afraid of me dying.  There's no way I'd let go so soon after receiving what I want most out of life."

The tears in Squall's eyes were now falling out of joy.  "Thank you…thank you…"

Over on the cot, facing away from the two men, Rinoa wiped a happy tear off her cheek.  Finally…_finally_, Squall seemed ready to leave his lonely, hard past behind him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nine months later, mid-June…

The Alcauld Plains around Balamb Garden were full of life, even more so than usual.  The weather was beautiful, and everything was set up for an outdoor wedding.  A couple curious monsters had wandered close a little while ago, but Zell, always one to hate spoilsports, human or not, had taken it upon himself to chase them out of there.  The local monster population was now keeping its distance.

Squall had never felt better in his life.  He was finally going to marry the woman he wanted to devote himself to fully and unquestioningly.  They had been together almost three years, not very long actually, but he felt as if he had been waiting for this day the moment she had grabbed his hand and dragged him across the dance floor at the SeeD ball oh so long ago…

The reception was going to be held in that self-same ballroom.  Squall was looking forward to that, dancing under the glass ceiling for the first time with his wife.  Not his girlfriend, his _wife_…

A gentle hand on his shoulder broke him out of his reverie.  He turned around and faced his father, who was smiling gently at him.  Squall couldn't help but smile back.  Laguna had stunned his doctors and recovered further than they expected.  They thought he would at least need some kind of inhaler to help him breathe, as his lungs had taken the most serious damage, but, by the sixth month after the attack, he was as active and energetic as before, without any breathing aids.  Laguna had said that, even though it sounding like something out of a dime-store novel, it was the power of his son's love that had pulled him through.

"I'm proud of you, Squall," Laguna said, squeezing his son's shoulder.  "I'm glad I can be here for you today."

"I am, too," Squall replied.  He reached out and pulled his father into a tight hug.  "Thank you, Father."

"No problem," Laguna whispered back.

Before anything else could be said or done, a high-pitched squeal sounded from not three feet away from them, followed by three rapid clicks of a camera shutter.  Both their heads whipped around to see who it was, and there stood Selphie, all decked-out to be a bridesmaid, holding her camera.  "You two looked so CUTE!"  She suddenly grabbed Squall's hand and jerked him off toward the altar.  "C'mon!  It'll start in, like, two minutes!"

Squall looked back toward his father for a second, then was forced to bring his eyes to the front as Selphie seemed unaware that she was putting Squall in severe danger of tripping, the way she was dragging him.  She immediately let go of him when they got there and ran off to take her place in the marriage procession.

Squall glanced back toward Laguna once more, but his eyes were drawn down the aisle between the two clumps of chairs as the procession began, his heart beating wildly in his chest as they day he'd been waiting for finally commenced.

Owari 

**Author's Notes:**  Well, there you go.  I didn't kill Laguna, but I still put a healthy dose of my trademark sap/angst in there.  You better be happy, Megan!  Please let me know what you all think of this, either in a review or at mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!


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